


hold me close and call me by your name

by readtolive



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readtolive/pseuds/readtolive
Summary: Derek works at the Zoo and Stiles is a young and aspiring zoologist





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for not making Stiles an FBI agent after tonight's episode since it definitely got my juices flowing:) But... this story wanted to be written, so, here it is. Enjoy:)   
> I'm hoping for tens of FBI stories where Stiles rescues Derek from other writers, for sure:)
> 
> I would also like to apologize for any language or typing mistakes, they're all mine. Since I'm not a native speaker and I don't have a beta, I hope I'll be forgiven.

Stiles checked the contents of his bag and patted his pockets once again, just to make sure he brought everything he needed with him. The interview he had scheduled was very important to him, even though to an outside observer, it might be unclear as to why. It was a simple request that he had to place at the Beacon Hills Zoo, but for Stiles, it meant the final step of his definite return to his hometown and to the life with his father, his only family. Getting the permission from the Zoo manager to do his doctorate thesis there shouldn’t be a problem and it most probably wouldn’t be. To Stiles, it was pretty major, since he had no other options to finish his thesis were he denied. It had been his father’s idea, too, which John didn’t even share with him before Stiles had explicitly told him he was planning on getting back to his hometown after six years of studying at Columbia. He got all his degrees and now he was writing a thesis on animal behavior in captivity, which would not only bring him his PhD title, but also help the cause he was fighting for - he was a firm believer that all Zoos should be shut down and he was eager to prove it.

Strangely enough, Beacon Hills had one of the best Zoos on the West Coast. Its reputation skyrocketed after Stiles' departure from the town, mainly due to good animal behavior and their extended life expectancy, which was much longer than in other Zoos; also, due to their reproductive life which was insanely successful, according to the reports. They even got some of the rarest species to mate and bear healthy cubs. Stiles also heard they refused to give or sell their pups and babies to other Zoos and optioned to expand their territory instead in order to accommodate them all. Aside from the thriving wildlife, the Zoo had amazing flora. It was a zoological and botanical garden at the same time. Stiles thought they perhaps had great botanists who achieved that, but he didn’t want to dwell too much on that right now. He couldn’t remember anyone in Beacon Hills who was that skilled in botany, but he figured he would discover soon enough.

"Dad!" Stiles yelled, enjoying the sound of his own voice echoing through his childhood home. It sounded familiar. He loved the fact that he was back. He loved that he got to be with his father who, despite Stiles’ gentle encouragements, remained alone all these years after Stiles’ mother’s death and never acted upon a couple vague possibilities which would have awakened his nonexistent love life. Stiles got it, he really did; but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He thought his father spent too much time alone and it bothered him. So, even though Stiles was twenty-four now, he wanted to live with his old man. He didn’t care about the small town gossip; he didn’t care about anything, really, but his father. It was his decision, and he was so happy about it.

Stiles was looking for his shoes which he had kicked who knew where in his usual haste earlier and now he couldn’t find them. He was in the middle of moving the living room couch when he heard a snicker from the doorway.

"I see old habits die hard, son," John leaned against the wall and looked at Stiles warmly. "I just can’t figure out how you managed to graduate from university. Are you sure your degree isn’t fake? Or perhaps you went to all your classes shoeless."

Stiles feigned annoyance, but in all reality, he had missed their playful banter so much that he welcomed its return with all his heart. “Yeah, yeah, funny man. Stop teasing me when I'm running late. If you don’t know where my shoes are, get off mu case." At this point, Stiles was almost lying on the floor, hoping the new perspective would bring him more luck.

"Here," John threw Stiles’ shoes towards him and one of them nearly chucked him in the head.

Stiles cried out, but grabbed the shoes thankfully. "Ouch, but thanks, Dad! I see a nice steak in your near future. With a pile of obligatory veggies on the side, but a sizable steak, nonetheless."

He was almost ready; he’d probably make it on time. "If you could also locate my jacket, I might also make a dessert."  Stiles went into the hall.

"Are you sure you don’t want me to call the Zoo? They owe me a favor or two," John offered once again. Stiles put his jacket on which he finally found behind the kitchen door and hugged his Dad.

"No, Dad, it’s fine. Thank you. It’s just that I think they have no reason to refuse me, and I really want to do this by myself."

John gave him one of his special closemouthed smiles, when his nose wrinkled up and his eyes turned into sickle moon slits. "Well. Good luck, then."

Stiles stomach clenched with some weird mixture of emotions, but he knew what the prevailing one was – he was just so glad to be back. The guilt for having left John for college was killing him, even though Stiles knew John would be upset if he knew how Stiles had felt. He hugged his father once again. "See you tonight, Pops. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone."

John just chuckled and opened the door for him.

When he went out, Stiles had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Words weren’t enough to describe this feeling of deep content. Not that Stiles didn’t love the college experience or enjoyed the big city life, because he did, very much so. But even then, Stiles knew it was just a phase, a stage of his life that had to happen before he came back to his roots. Before, it had taken him a long time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life and after some careful and deep self-analyses, Stiles was absolutely sure what he didn’t want. Mostly, he didn’t want what everybody expected from him, which was to become a police officer like his dad, or to become some hotshot businessman because everybody knew how smart he was. Also, everybody expected him never to return to Beacon Hills, but what could they possibly know. So, to the surprise of many, Stiles became a zoologist; and he was top of his class, too – he already had some works published by the leading scientific journals, and his study on wolves was included in the first year college textbook. Deeply in his bones, Stiles felt he was on the right course. 

At first, Stiles contemplated walking to the Zoo; by his rough estimate it would take him a good half hour to get there on foot. Stiles would love that, but he would be late. So he took a taxi, promising himself that if he got the job, he would leave home early enough to enjoy the walk next time.

The Zoo was on the outskirts of the town, close to the Preserve, tucked between the three hills after which the place got its name; and it intelligently used all the benefits of the convenient terrain. From the first look Stiles saw that they favored all natural materials and sources and he couldn’t spot a single iron bar. The only artificial material were a high quality thick plexiglass acrylic sheets, used for some enclosures. It was the most convenient solution, since it didn’t obstruct the view or spoil its beauty, and still it performed its fencing role. Right from the entrance, Stiles saw lavish trees and bushes, rich grass and foliage and colorful flowers and plants on every step. All species were carefully marked and detailed on wooden plates. Stiles would love to see more of it, he was drawn to the sights immensely, but he really had to see the manager first. So, with firm steps, he marched towards the house which he knew had to be the management building, but which looked nothing like a cold, business office space. Instead, it looked like a cozy cottage somewhere in the Swiss Alps, all white with wooden outside beams and sweet primroses on the windowsills.

As soon as he entered, Stiles saw Mr. Allen smiling at him across the lobby. The man hadn’t changed too much since he taught Stiles AP Biology in high school; he was still as short and seemed just as old as he had back then, his silver glasses half way off his nose, and a half crown of grey hair circling his bald head. Both his arms were already outstretched towards Stiles. "Stiles, my dear boy, come, let me see you, these are my reading glasses, come – oh, look at you, you’ve gotten so tall!"

Stiles had loved Mr. Allen as his teacher. Even though teaching had been his side job, he had managed to infect the students with his love for animals and plants, telling them cute Zoo stories and taking them there every chance he could. When Stiles approached him, the man took both Stiles’ hands in his.

"But you’re still so skinny, I see. Didn’t they feed you well at college? Come, sit, I’m so glad to see you," Mr. Allen bleated as he pushed Stiles towards a big, soft sofa in front of what looked like a real fireplace. The man himself sat in a high armchair, with today’s newspapers still open on a small table next to it.

Stiles blushed a little; he knew he was one of Mr. Allen’s favorite students, but that was more than seven years ago and he was pleasantly surprised by the warm welcome. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Allen…"

"Oh, please, Stiles, it’s Theodore. We’re colleagues now! I must say, John has kept me updated on your progress and I couldn’t be more proud of you. I knew you’d go far, yes, yes…," the man drifted off for a few moments, chewing on the handle of his glasses. "I’ve read your e-mail, and don’t you worry, young man. We’ll set you up with anything you need. For you, and your father, to be honest, anything – the town owes you that much. How’s John, by the way?"

Stiles was a bit overwhelmed and extremely grateful. "He, uh… he is fine, he’s really fine, Mr. Allen. Enjoying his retirement. I’m so glad to be back and I think he is, too." Stiles coughed a little. “Mr. Allen… Theodore," Stiles hastily corrected himself. It felt so weird to call his former teacher and a man old enough to be his grandfather by his first name. "I am writing my doctoral thesis on animals in… on the Zoo animals. Behavioral analyses. I was thinking, if you would be kind to allow me to do it here and… and I could do some work as well, I could help. I don’t expect to be paid," Stiles rushed to add.

"Nonsense, my dear boy," the man exclaimed. Stiles stiffened for a second, but Mr. Allen continued. "Of course we’ll pay you some. Not much, but we can afford it. The Zoo’s been doing pretty well, as I’m sure you’ve heard," Mr. Allen nodded assuredly, puffing up with pride.

"No, no, that is yes, I’ve heard," Stiles stuttered, happy to hear such positive words.

"I’ve already told our keeper that you’re coming. Well, he’s not really our zookeeper, to be precise, as much as he’s… everything around here, really." Mr. Allen leaned a little towards Stiles. "He doesn’t have any formal education, but the man is a miracle, an animal and plant whisperer. Now, he does appear a little… peculiar." Stiles frowned in wonder at the words, but Mr. Allen continued. “Peculiar, but good, Stiles, you’ll see. You can learn so much from him, and he can explain everything to you. He takes some time getting used to. To be honest, we owe our success to him. Come, let me take you to him and you can get… started." Mr. Allen looked around himself, seeming a little confused. "Wherever have I left my keys… Oh, well. We’ll just yell."

Stiles followed Mr. Allen out of the main building and around it, surprised by the energetic gait of the older man. They walked along a narrow path through some tall shrubbery until they reached a sturdy looking wooden gate standing in the middle of the living fence. "Derek! Derek! Come on out, young man. Stiles is here!" Mr. Allen shouted. Stiles just stood there, a little stunned at the unorthodox communication ways Mr. Allen was practicing. Couldn’t he have used a mobile phone? Couldn’t they have just entered, the man was the manager, after all.

Stiles’ thoughts were quickly put to a stop when a tall, dark man appeared at the gate, looking at them with what Stiles was sure was a murdering glare. His hair was a thick, wavy mane, untamed and wild; he had a thin, blade nose with elegant nostrils and a set of most piercing eyes which reminded Stiles of an eagle; and thick, rough looking beard. He was wearing filthy denim overalls whose legs were stuffed in sturdy, black leather boots and under overalls, it was a dark grey t-shirt which clung tightly to his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Stiles felt a knot form in his stomach immediately. Derek looked very angry. Hot, but angry.

Mr. Allen behaved like he didn’t even notice Derek’s grumpiness. He smiled at him as if he were a Pomeranian, not a rabid wolf. Because that was what he looked like to Stiles. "Here’s our young Stiles, Derek. Now, he’ll tell you what he wants and you’ll help him, right; and I hired him as your… assistant, he’ll help you out as well." Mr. Allen looked benevolently between Stiles and Derek, as if he expected them to shake hands, or worse, to hug it out. Stiles stood straight as a rod, speechless, while Derek still glared at them with his eyebrows scrunched down, equally speechless. "You boys will have a splendid time together, I’m sure. I’ll be off now… Call me if you need anything. Bye-bye!", he even waved before he left, leaving Stiles there to be murdered dead by this Cro-Magnon man. 

***

Stiles was so uncomfortable. Derek looked at him for the first time and moved aside. "Come in," he mumbled, and without waiting for Stiles’ answer, he went inside the gate first. Stiles followed him, noticing the man’s impressive form even underneath the overalls. Stiles wasn’t interested, not at all; he just couldn’t help but notice Derek’s unique appearance. His dating days were firmly behind him, at least for a while; Stiles hoped for a long while. He was just tired of dating. After several failed attempts at it back at the university, Stiles had quickly learned that he wasn’t a typical relationship material. He hated hooking up, and serious, long-term relationship just wasn’t something other boys his age seemed to be interested in. Stiles thought that serious relationship might be his romantic preference, but he couldn’t even find that out. His longest relationship lasted only three months and even that one didn’t develop further from biweekly sex and occasional dinner dates. Not that Derek seemed like a relationship material, far from it. It was just that the man was very attractive, in a very distant kind of way. So distant, that Stiles was a dot on the horizon to him, he was sure. Stiles only hoped he would survive their professional relationship. That was his only goal; and at this point, he highly doubted even that to be probable.

Inside, there was a small cottage surrounded by neat, colorful garden. "This is my office… so to speak, and I also live here." Derek waved towards the house. "We can sit inside, but it’s nicer outside… we can sit here." Derek pointed to a big, oak table and two benches under a tree. "It’s nicer," he repeated.

Stiles took off his bag and put it on the bench. "Okay. We can sit here." He dared to look at Derek.

"Would you like something to drink? I have lemonade," Derek offered.

"Sure. Thanks," Stiles said, finally taking a seat, looking around. The tall living fence surrounded the entire house and garden, so nothing could be seen outside. Derek quickly returned with a pitcher full of cool lemonade. He filled two glasses and set one in front of Stiles. Stiles stared at his broad hands. They had thick veins all over them.

"Look…", Derek started. "I don’t mean to be rude. But…"

Here we go, Stiles thought. He braced himself for rejection. He could feel the waves of animosity coming from the man.

"There is… order here. I like to keep… things under control.” The man seemed to be struggling for words. “And I don’t like… when someone messes with my order. Just to be clear," Derek said looking anywhere but at Stiles. His voice was unexpectedly melodic. "Theodore told me that you need to observe and write down data and gather samples and things like that. And I don’t mind, I honestly don’t… just… you have to listen to me, and do those things… when I say it’s fine.” Derek then closed his mouth and glued his eyes to the ground. It allowed Stiles to observe him freely. He decided it was time he said something.

“Did Theodore also tell you I’m a certified zoologist?” Stiles asked and promptly bit his tongue. He didn’t mean to sound like that. “I mean, not because I think I’m better… that I know more… because I don't, I really, really don't, I practically know no...” Stiles was digging his hole deeper and deeper. Damn it. “I, I mean, I know some things. I’m not some idiot who’ll ruin everything for you. I definitely know a lot about animals. Animals are my thing, I am one with animals, so to speak, I am your man when it comes to…” Stiles gulped because Derek was looking at him with utter disdain in his eyes, on his face, on his everything, basically. Disdain for Stiles. Stiles was a dead man.

“Fine. If you’re not an idiot, then listen to me. You come here early in the mornings, before the Zoo opens, and you can watch me feed the animals and help out and do… your thing. I don’t want to see you during working hours since I won’t have time for you. I have to take care that visitors don’t feed the animals with candy and bread and similar bullshit. Then we can work together in the evenings again, when I clean the cages and prepare them for the night. Stay out of my way, do as you’re told, and do not, I repeat, do not do anything without asking me first.”

Stiles’ eyes were wide open in shock. He quickly nodded, breathing heavily, and rushed to assure Derek. “Of course, of course, I am nothing if not disciplined. You won’t even notice I’m there, I’ll be like a ghost! Teeny, tiny ghost. But a very helpful ghost, since I’ll be helping you…”

Derek groaned and held his head with his hands. “Do you always talk that much?”

Stiles was offended. “Hey, I resent that! I can be quiet, quiet as a mouse. I can be so quiet you won’t even know I’m there. So quiet, you’ll wonder where I am, quiet. Not a beep from me, no, sire…” Stiles stopped himself when Derek raised his head, disbelief written all over his face. Stiles gulped. “You just didn’t… specify. I mean, you didn’t tell me explicitly not to speak this much, so I didn’t know. But if you had told me, I would have known and I would have definitely listened, since I am an excellent listener…” Stiles gripped his lemonade, realizing he didn’t even try it. He didn’t dare now.

Derek fixed him with his stare. "Stiles, shut up. Is that explicit enough for you? Go home and I’ll see you in the evening.”

“What? Why? Why can’t I start now?” Stiles whined, surprised by his own audacity. Derek just looked at him, up and down, and Stiles blushed like a teenager. He had stopped being self-conscious about his appearance long ago. He knew he looked decent. He had his tan trousers on and his blue shirt, which he considered appropriate attire for this situation. But there he was, blushing under the man’s gaze.

“You have to wear something different. Something which you can get dirty in. And you need boots, solid boots. Didn’t they teach you that in college,” Derek spit disdainfully. He picked their glasses, and Stiles looked at his untouched lemonade with regret. “I’ll see you tonight,” the man squeezed between his teeth and left Stiles sitting there, feeling like an idiot. Stiles watched him disappear into the house.

Stiles picked up his bag and stood, wondering briefly if he could just disobey Derek and go for a walk through the Zoo on his own. He was a person, like any other, and he could visit the Zoo, like any other visitor, right? But he quickly dismissed that thought, remembering Derek’s eyebrows of gloom and doom. That would definitely set their relationship on the wrong foot and Stiles didn’t want that. Not that he had a particular desire to be on Derek’s good side, it was just that Derek didn’t look like a man you’d want to have any issues with. Oh boy. These were going to be long six months for Stiles.

***

"I can’t even describe him to you, Dad. He looks and sounds like a mountain man, like a Neanderthal. Like a, like a Yeti, or something," Stiles fumed. "And he was so rude! So rude."

John listened to Stiles from his chair, flipping through his newspaper. "Derek Hale is a good man, Stiles. Don’t speak about him like that. I’m sure once you get to know him, it’ll be easier for you."

"Good man… How do you know he’s a good man? Just because he maybe doesn’t have a file with the police doesn’t mean he’s a good man," Stiles spluttered, waving his arms around. "Who knows, maybe he eats little newborn rabbits for breakfast and you just don’t know about it. Because he looks like it. You wouldn’t call him a good man then, would you. Or he strangles kittens, or, or, he tears spiders’ legs off. He is a caveman, let me tell you."

John laughed. "Son, I believe I was promised a steak and a dessert. Don’t let me stop you from fulfilling that promise." He closed his newspaper and looked at Stiles. "Just… I know Derek since he was born. I won’t tell you anything about him since it’s personal, and maybe you two become friends and he tells you himself one day. But… he’s had a very difficult life. Very difficult, Stiles. And he’s great at his job. He’s the one who made the Beacon Hills Zoo thrive, single-handedly, I must say. Just… you don’t have to be friends, just try not to make his life any more difficult than it already is. He’s a good man," John repeated.

Stiles sighed and threw himself back on the couch. He believed his father, of course. Stiles believed every word his father told him. And, he decided to listen to him. He wouldn’t make Derek’s life any more difficult. And he hoped, just like his father, that they could be at least friendly towards each other. "I’m going back there after dinner. What am I going to wear, oh god,” he threw his arm over his eyes dramatically. "Can I borrow your boots?"

"Sure. If you chop off your toes, you might even manage to shove your feet into them. You are three sizes bigger than me, remember?"

Stiles’ father was a mean, mean man. Stiles was tempted to go there in flip-flops and his Moroccan tunic he got from the flea market just to spite Derek; in the end, he dressed in his oldest sweatpants and a t-shirt which was so washed out it was almost see-through, and put on his old rubber boots he wore when he had to fix the gutters in the rain and which still fit him, surprisingly enough. Derek thought he was an idiot and now he definitely looked like one as well. He quickly fixed dinner for his father, and since he was too nervous to even have a single bite, he apologized to John for having to eat his meal alone and left.

When he arrived at the Zoo, he wasn’t sure if he was expected to go to Derek’s house or where the man was at all. So, he made an executive decision to have that first walk through the Zoo by himself, and he would have felt very confident and brave if his rubber boots didn’t squeak like rubber ducks with each step. All the visitors had already left. Here and there, he could see a worker carrying a bucket or another one raking the leaves. But soon, he forgot about everything, captivated by the beauty of the flora and fauna. The enclosures were so authentic, as similar to the natural habitats as they possibly could be, with some really ingenious solutions. There were so many ponds and lakes, swimming pools and fountains. Many animals walked completely freely outside their enclosures. But Stiles knew where he wanted to go and what he wanted to see – the animals which he thought suffered the most in captivity: lions, tigers and cheetahs, jaguars and pumas, wolves and foxes and bears. In one word, predators whose natural habitat included miles and miles of savanna and which couldn’t be replicated in a Zoo.

It was getting darker and Stiles was walking for over an hour for sure. He didn’t see anyone else for a while and he clutched the strap of his bag firmly in his hand. The air echoed with the sounds of wildlife and Stiles followed the notifications informing him about the directions. Finally, he reached what he thought was the Zoo's borderline, at the top of a hill, but when he got there, he gasped in shock at the sight. Underneath him, an enormous valley spread like a panorama, deep and vast, surrounded with sharp cliffs and rocks. It was intersected by two large streams and had at least one pond, its banks filled with lush vegetation. There, next to the pond, Stiles saw what seemed like a pride – three lionesses with three cubs were stretched lazily on large, flat rocks while a magnificent lion stood a little above them, gazing into distance. It was a perfect habitat, as close to perfection as it could get. Stiles was stunned and amazed. He sat down, and took out his camera and his notebook, beginning to scribble immediately. He reminded himself to bring his binocular the next day. He had at least two hours before complete darkness and Stiles was resolved to spend them right there.

After a while, when Stiles’ back was already stiff and his legs numb, the animals started fussing around. Stiles looked carefully to see what was happening, when he felt his breath leave him and his heart stop at the same time. There, far beneath him, in the shadows of the twilight, Stiles saw Derek, down in the valley, walking towards the lions without any protection whatsoever, casually and freely. Over his shoulder was something which looked like an entire cow to Stiles. “Oh, my god,” Stiles gasped and put his hand over his mouth in shock. “Oh, my god.” He couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream, and he wouldn’t, he wasn’t stupid enough to do that. He watched in utter horror the scene develop below him. Derek reached the lions, and they were very alert and circling him in lazy steps, getting closer to him, but they didn’t attack. Not only did they not attack Derek, but they didn’t go for the meat as well.

Stiles was petrified and utterly, utterly shocked. Derek shoved the meat off his shoulder and it fell onto the ground with a loud thump; then, he cut off a huge chunk of it; Stiles didn’t know how, since he never saw a knife or any tool in his hands. Derek lifted his arm and swang, throwing the chunk so far into the bushes, farther than it was humanely possible. Stiles’ mouth was open in complete surprise. The lions ran to find it, to catch it, chasing after their prey, their beautiful fur shining golden in the last rays of the sun.  The only unnatural thing about the whole process was that they didn’t get to kill their prey first. A few seconds later, Derek cut off another large chunk and threw it in another direction. Thus, the feeding game began, and Stiles couldn’t tell who enjoyed it more, the man or the animals.

When they finished, they came to Derek like he was their alpha, their leader, and the man started petting the lions, rubbing their back with his strong arms and running his fingers through their mane. Some of them stood on their back legs and put their paws on Derek, hugging him. Stiles could hear the deep, sonorous rumbling coming from both the man and the lions. How did Derek make such sound?

Stiles was beside himself. He stood up, and at that moment, as if he heard him, which was completely impossible, Derek turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. Stiles froze. Derek’s eyes flashed, Stiles was sure they flashed, with absolute hatred and anger for Stiles. Stiles gasped, quickly picking up his stuff, and decided to run for his life, scrambling for purchase in his rubber boots. He had no idea if he was supposed to go left or right, he was completely disoriented. After a while, though, he managed to stumble upon a familiar intersection and gather his wits enough to read the notice boards. He made it to the exit in less than an hour and he was half way home when he remembered he was also supposed to help Derek tonight. He was so completely and utterly screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Scotty, I’m telling you, man, I can’t go back there. I feel like he isn’t normal. That wasn’t normal behavior. Maybe he sedates the animals, I don’t know.”

His best friend snickered on the other end of the line. “What are you talking about, listen to yourself. Derek is just good at his job, that’s all. I’ve known him for years. He comes to see my boss often.”

Stiles yawned loudly, stretching across his bed. “Anyway, normal or not, he is definitely going to kill me, I just know it. He can’t stand me. And after tonight, when I saw what he definitely didn’t want me to see, my sorry life has finally come to its untimely end.'' Stiles then thought of an obvious upside. ''At least he is hot, and no matter how shallow you think that is, it means a lot to me, Scott. My gravestone can say, ‘Here lies Stiles, nipped in the bud by the hottest dude to ever hot’. Promise me you’ll do that for me, buddy.”

“You think Derek’s hot? I’ll tell him that.”

“What? No! Come on! Scott, that’s some serious bro code violation!”

“Go to sleep, Stiles, you have to be there at six at the latest.”

Stiles groaned at that, rolling in his bed like a dying buffalo. “Oh, god. Remind me why I thought this was the best idea ever.”

Scott completely ignored Stiles’ agony. “See you on Friday, buddy. If you survive, that is,” and promptly hung up on him.

 

Stiles managed to get a few hours of sleep before his alarm pierced a hole through his skull. Bleary eyed and cranky, he took a quick shower and dressed himself in the exact same outfit like yesterday. He couldn't care less. He felt and looked like a zombie, but soon enough, after a brisk walk through the chill morning air, his brain woke up only to be painfully reminded of the upcoming meeting with Derek. Stiles hoped he wouldn’t see him at all, if that was possible. Maybe the animals had eaten him the previous night, Stiles hoped, and he would have to act like a mournful party.

He could do that, he could sacrifice himself for the greater good.

Of course, he wasn’t such luck. Through the misty morning light, Stiles saw Derek standing at the gates of the Zoo, looking straight at him, all stoic and menacing. Stiles slowed down a little, until he crawled to a stop in front of the guy. Civility, that was the way to go. He was going to be civil. So, he opened his mouth and croaked: “Good morning,” in Derek’s general direction.

“What’s that on your feet?” the man’s voice rang clear as bell. He had to be one of those guys who drank six raw eggs every morning. Stiles shivered.

Stiles looked at his gorgeous eyes of unspecified, heavenly color. “Why, I believe they’re called boots. What do they look like to you? You told me to wear boots.”

Derek closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, like he was restraining himself from strangling Stiles on the spot. “They look like a piece of gummy shit to me. Do you even know why you have to wear boots, Stiles? Strong, firm, sturdy leather boots?”

Stiles swallowed. “I thought you didn’t want me to get dirty with animal… dirt.”

Derek looked like he was having a stroke. He breathed in and out a few times through his nose. “Come with me,” and dragged Stiles by the arm past the main building towards his house. Inside, he rifled through some boxes and after a minute, he threw a pair of boots at Stiles. “They’re for protection. You wouldn’t want a giraffe’s or a horse’s hoof to stomp on your foot. It would break all your bones. Your rubber boots are of no use.”

Stiles paled. “I, I knew that. I just… kind of forgot.”

Derek ignored him and continued preparing for his work day. “Yesterday, you didn’t do your job. Today, I expect you to double your duties. Go to the kitchen and pick up the food for the monkeys and bring it to their space. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

Stiles jumped on his feet and yelled from the top of his lungs: “Sir, yes, Sir!” saluting Derek with his right hand. Positively shocked, Derek’s eyes opened wide, looking at Stiles like he was an alien, which came as no surprise to Stiles. Sometimes even Stiles thought he was out of this world.

Without a word, he turned around and left, even though he had no idea where the kitchen, or the space for monkeys, was. After he inquired about the whereabouts of the kitchen, the information kindly provided to him by a girl who looked, and leered at Stiles, like she would have great success working in porn industry, Stiles was very surprised to see there three cooks hunched over big stoves, cooking food for the animals. It smelled great, and Stiles was painfully reminded by his grumbling stomach that he didn’t have any breakfast, or any dinner last night, for that matter.

Stiles peeked at the huge pots, seeing that they were filled with vegetables and rice and pieces of meat and all kinds of yummy goodness. He had no idea that the Zoos fed animals with real, cooked… meals. “Derek sent me to get the food for the monkeys,” he chirped, looking at the guy closest to him. He was a big, dark man with arms wider than Stiles’ head and he ignored Stiles completely, just continuing to stir the stew with a huge ladle, looking at Stiles like he was a piece of old gum stuck to the sole of his shoe.

But Stiles wouldn’t be swayed. “Look, man, if you don’t give me that food, I’m pretty sure Derek will feed me to the monkeys. And I’m not sure that’s a proper diet for them,” Stiles reasoned.

The man took a large metal container and started filling it to the brim with the stew, or soup, or whatever the meal was called. When it was full, he plopped it in front of Stiles.

“Oh.” Stiles eyed the container and carefully tried to lift it. “This is extremely heavy.” He started huffing and sweating almost immediately. When he got out, bending under the weight, he was pretty sure he could hear laughter from the inside of the kitchen, and someone’s voice yelling, “Hey, Boyd, why didn’t you tell our certified scientist about the cart? He’ll break his fool back…’’, but Stiles didn’t want to wait to hear the answer. He hurried towards the monkey enclosure, positive that Derek would kill him if he didn’t.

The space for the monkeys was absolutely magical. It was warm and toasty inside, and all the animals were there, smartly choosing to wait for the sun to warm the morning air a little bit more. They had hundreds of ropes hanging from the ceiling, some falling straight down to the ground, some intertwined with the others to create a web for the monkeys to climb, with lots of little nooks and wooden platforms where they could rest or sleep. There were branches, big and thick like tree trunks, with lots of green leaves all over them; Stiles briefly wondered how they got the leaves to remain green, but when he looked up, he saw that those were actual trees and that the enclosed part of the space was built around the real trees. Stiles was speechless. It was a thing of beauty; the inside, which provided shelter to the animals, freely and openly communicating with the outside, which gave them space and relative freedom.

Derek was sitting on the ground next to a large tree, feeding a baby monkey from a bottle. Stiles' heart filled with warmth at the sight. He couldn't help it, he was more romantic than a Valentine card. Derek’s hand cradled the baby’s head gently, its little body lying safely in the crook of his elbow. Stiles didn’t want to approach them, not wanting to disturb the feeding, so he just put the metal container down, waiting for Derek to finish.

“There are three more babies that need feeding,” Derek whispered to him. Stiles didn’t know why he whispered, since the monkeys were screeching pretty loudly. He nodded towards some kind of a thermos bag with the bottles, which kept them nice and warm. Stiles peeked into the little house to the left, where three babies lay on soft blankets. Stiles picked one and imitated Derek’s position, leaning next to him against the tree. He’d never done this before. The baby in his arms sucked frantically at the nipple of the bottle. Stiles started smiling and looked at Derek, and for a second there, it looked like Derek would smile back at him. That was definitely a sign of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Stiles would so cheer at this obvious emotional progress, but he didn’t want to scare the babies.

Afterwards, when Derek took plastic bowls out of a cupboard to hand out the breakfast to the adult animals, Stiles was a little terrified. Some of them were really huge, and loud, but none of them touched Derek while he was working. When he finished, a few jumped right into Derek’s arms and hugged him, patting his back like they wanted to thank him for his kindness. Derek looked so happy at that moment, his face open and satisfied that Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off him. The man fascinated him. There was so much more to him than what others kept telling him. This extended so far beyond the ‘he’s great at his job’ narrative and Stiles was eager to find out what it was.

It took them more than three hours to finish the morning’s work. Stiles saw two other keepers feeding some animals as well; a tall, curly boy and the dark giant from the kitchen. Stiles was blind with fatigue when they finished, wondering how they managed, because Stiles was about to collapse. Derek told him he could go to his cottage to clean up, because he had more work even after the Zoo opened for visitors. Stiles obediently went and promptly regretted it, since he felt a little awkward there in Derek’s place without Derek.

He felt like an intruder. He looked around, noticing the interior for the first time, because he was too nervous this morning to see anything, really. The place was, unsurprisingly so, sparsely furnished. There was no TV or any other sign of civilization aside from an old, but pretty decent coffee maker, a stove and an ancient looking fridge in the kitchen. Stiles went into the bathroom to wash himself, and there he finally found strong evidence that Derek was an actual human being and not some forest god; things like nail clippers and the thingy for removing thick skin from your heels and dental floss.

When he finished, he passed by a half open door of what presumably was Derek’s bedroom. Stiles just couldn’t resist and he peeked from the door a little – the narrow bed was made, and the only sign of life were several scattered books and an old photograph with at least ten people on it stuck to the mirror opposite the bed.

One book was open, lying on Derek’s bedside table with its cover facing the room – it was Kierkegaard’s ‘Either/Or’. Color Stiles surprised; the mountain man read Danish philosophers. Stiles knew at least one quote by heart. He wondered if Derek was unhappy. 

_Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy._

Stiles had a feeling that he was beginning to see the depths of Derek a little better. Unfortunately, that didn’t also mean he was starting to understand him better. If anything, the opposite could be claimed. The man remained a mystery. 

Stiles went back to the kitchen and plopped down at the table, taking out his notebook to jot some things down while they were still fresh in his mind. Not for the first time, he wrote about Derek instead. He lazily wondered what his professors would say if his thesis was all about Derek. He would name it, 'A modern day Tarzan with a philosopher's soul'... The words swirled before his eyes, mixing with the sunrays dancing across the table’s surface. He was so tired and so hungry.

***

Stiles’ entire left cheek hurt. When he cracked one of his eyes open, he saw the edge of his notebook swimming into his vision, and he could distinctly feel the drool dripping down his cheek in a steady stream. He fell asleep! He quickly sat in his chair, nearly screaming when the dried spit skinned half of his cheek off and left it glued to his notebook.

To Stiles’ complete humiliation, Derek was sitting across from him, expressionless and serene, munching on what Stiles thought was the biggest sandwich Stiles had ever seen. Stiles’ mortification was immense and it somehow grew impossibly deeper when his stomach betrayed him like the worst betrayer by releasing a long and loud gurgling sound right at that moment.

Derek got up and took a plate from the kitchen counter with the exact same monster sandwich and dropped it in front of Stiles. “I made you a sandwich.”

Stiles looked at it and he couldn’t deny the gratefulness he felt at that moment. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. But, how did Derek know he would want a sandwich? “How did you know I would want one?”

“I could hear your stomach grumbling when we were feeding the monkeys this morning.“

Stiles refused to be embarrassed. “Thanks.“ It was all he said before he attacked the food, stuffing his face like a maniac. There were no words to describe this particular skill of his. It could be compared with an attack by a swarm of bees; maybe a swarm of piranhas would be a more accurate descriptor.

Derek cleared his throat, clearly disturbed by Stiles’ eating habits. Who wouldn’t be. “You could stay. I mean, you don’t have to leave before your evening shift. It’s impractical. You could stay… here. It’s…“ Derek drifted off, looking somewhere behind Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles swallowed his last bite. “I could. That would be… much easier for me. Thanks.“

Derek nodded in acknowledgement. “Just. Don’t touch anything.“

Stiles almost laughed at that, but he managed to catch himself in the last moment, realizing how rude that would be. Truthfully, there was nothing to be touched in Derek’s house. It was practically Spartan. Stiles took his phone from his bag. ‘’Can I just… I’ll call my Dad, he’ll worry if I don’t.‘’ Stiles got up and waved towards the garden. He pressed speed dial one even before he got out of the house for some privacy. John picked up on the second ring. Stiles explained the situation, and his father laughed a little. ‘’See, I told you, Derek’s not a Yeti. He’s really a nice guy.“ Stiles heard a loud crack from the kitchen at that, like Derek had dropped a plate, or something. So weird. “Okay, Pops, gotta go. See you tonight!“

When Stiles got back into the kitchen, there were no traces of any breakage and Derek was sitting at the table once again, with his hands clasped in front of him. “Derek…“ Stiles began, unsure about what to say or how to ask. Then, a practical idea crossed his mind, cheering up his face. “Maybe we could exchange phone numbers? That way, we could… communicate, like, when we’re not together.“ Stiles had absolutely no idea why he sounded so awkward.

But Derek just looked at him expressionlessly. “I don’t have a phone.“

“Did you break it or something?“

“No. I’ve never had one in my life.“

Stiles spluttered. “But, but, why? How? How’s that even possible?“ Derek Hale, the last man on the planet, the only man, without a mobile phone. “What if there’s an emergency? What if a tiger attacks you, chops off your arm, and you have to call an ambulance to save you and reattach your arm at the hospital? What if, what if you fall down a cliff and break both your legs, huh?“

Mercifully, Derek cut him off. “I’ve never needed to call anyone or receive a call from anyone.“

Stiles just blinked at him owlishly. It was just sad. Didn’t Derek have anyone? A family? Friends? Stiles felt his throat clench like it always did before he cried. But Stiles managed to compose himself. “How do you surf the internet?“ It was a harmless enough question.

“There’s a computer room in the main building.“

Stiles felt personally offended at that. His mind helpfully kept Stiles’ next thought to itself. ‘You can’t have quality Derek-time in the main building, Derek.’

He remembered other things he wanted to ask Derek about and decided this was an ideal opportunity. “There are many things I want to know, but, what really bugs my mind is how you got that close to the lions last night.“ Stiles looked at Derek, to see if he would flinch, or move, or do anything shady. He didn’t. “And, the way they behaved around you, like puppies… It’s unnatural. Are they tamed? Is it possible at all? Were they drugged?“

Derek’s face darkened. “Neither. Why don’t you explain it to me, Mr. Zoologist.“

Stiles flinched at that. There was this huge gap between them and they just didn’t seem to be able to cross it. Derek didn’t even seem to want that. He saw Stiles as some kind of an elitist snob, obviously, when nothing could be further from the truth. And Stiles was ready to admit to his own prejudices regarding Derek, but he was trying to see past them, as they spent more time together and got to know each other a little better. He saw through Derek’s gruff exterior and boorish manners, but Derek didn’t budge an inch from his initial opinion about Stiles, as it seemed. It was hard for Stiles to take that in because such prejudices towards him helped his insecurities swim to the surface. As it were, he cared what Derek thought about him.

He took his bag. “I’ll be outside, working. Just, tell me when it’s time for us to go.“ Derek nodded, and for a second there, Stiles thought he saw a glimpse of regret in the man’s eyes.

Stiles was probably working on his notes for an hour at Derek’s garden table, enjoying the soft breeze and the fresh smells of plants, when Derek appeared at the door. Stiles had no idea what he did for the past hour and he didn’t care, really. He wanted to keep his focus on his work, nothing else. He wordlessly packed his stuff and got up.

“Ready?“ Derek asked him, his hands on his hips, obviously trying to arrange his features in a more pleasant manner. It didn’t work.

Stiles followed the man in silence, having no idea where they were going and what they were going to do. He felt a little disheartened. Derek took him to another one of those deep valleys. On their way there, they stopped from time to time for Derek to fix something, but basically, they went straight to the wolves.

When they reached the path surrounding the open space, Derek sat next to Stiles on a bench. They could see at least a dozen wolves down there, lying in front of their dens, enjoying the balmy evening. “Are you going to go to them?“ Stiles asked quietly, his body hunched in on itself, in a sudden bout of melancholy.

Derek nodded. “I read your study on the wolves,“ Derek said.

This was the last thing Stiles expected Derek to say. Stiles flushed in embarrassment. From this perspective, everything he wrote seemed so naïve and too scholarly to him. But Derek continued. “I liked it. It wasn’t… too bad. You have a very observant nature.“

Stiles didn’t say anything, but he received Derek’s words like they were high praise, and considering who they came from, they really were. In any case, Derek got up and left before Stiles managed to say anything. After maybe ten minutes, Stiles saw him join the wolves. There had to be some secret passage that only Derek knew about at the bottom of the hill.

The spectacle was still mind-boggling to Stiles. Derek walked in like he was one of their own, a part of their wolf pack. After the feeding, the wolves sat back on their haunches and howled at the moon, which hung low in the sky, visible even though it was still light. And Derek sat with them, howling just as loud, his head flung back and his throat pulsing with the trembling of his cords.

Who was this man? Stiles was dying to know. He wanted to know all Derek’s secrets, but he knew they were out of his reach. Stiles felt deep sorrow at the realization, the sorrow that you felt when something that you were chasing after just kept slipping through your fingertips, forever escaping your grasp, forever eluding you.

Later, when Stiles walked Derek to his house and every bone in his body hurt, Stiles thought Derek was looking at him strangely. His face was lit by a streetlamp, and his eyes shone differently in artificial light. The look on his face was so intense, that for one fleeting moment Stiles thought the man was going to kiss him. There, in the quiet of the night, when two people who had spent the evening together usually whispered sweet intimacies in each other’s ears, Derek bent his head a little towards Stiles and let his breath brush over Stiles’ charmed face. “Bring your swimming trunks tomorrow,“ he said, and then left.

***

That night, despite barely managing to keep his eyes open, Stiles did something which he absolutely couldn’t believe he hadn’t done before – he googled Derek Hale.

He regretted it the very instant Google Chrome opened the first page of his research. No Facebook, or Instagram, or any other social media account; just article upon article about horrible and tragic death of the entire Hale family from fifteen years ago, with only one survivor – Derek Hale.

Stiles stepped away from his lap top, breaking out in cold sweat. There was a fire and all eleven of them burned to death in their family home in the Beacon Hills preserve, men, women, small children. Stiles stumbled somehow to the toilet and hurled the contents of his stomach inside, his entire body spasming violently.

This meant that the Zoo was built on Derek’s family property. Oh, god. Derek’s tragedy suffocated him, it burned him from the inside, Stiles’ heart hurting in powerful empathy. Stiles shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have poked, he should have left Derek alone.

After hours of tossing and turning, Stiles managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

***

 

From then on, Stiles treated Derek with special consideration, always with proverbial silk gloves on his hands. It wasn’t something that he had decided upon in full consciousness, because Stiles definitely did not want Derek to notice anything different; it was more of an involuntary shift caused by Stiles’ recent discoveries.

As far as Derek’s treatment of Stiles was concerned, it remained exactly the same, which in Stiles’ book meant zero reaction to Stiles’ stunning wit and undeniable allure. Stiles did notice, however, a bit of showing off on Derek’s part; ever since their routine started flowing smoothly, Stiles could detect Derek’s subtle efforts to impress him, professionally speaking. That day when Derek asked Stiles to bring his swimming trunks, he took him to the seals’ pool where Derek dove and swam like an Olympic champion, with and without the seals. In his little notebook, Stiles added unnaturally long capability to remain underwater to Derek’s list of freaky skills.

 

Stiles spent their midday break from work at Derek’s place almost every day. He enjoyed their quiet companionship immensely and eventually he got so comfortable around the house that when he felt sleepy, he went to Derek’s single bed and slept there for an hour or two. During that time, Derek was either occupied with work, or he busied himself around the house, minding not to wake Stiles.

On one such occasion, when Stiles woke up, he couldn’t stop thinking about Derek’s situation, starting from that very bed that Stiles was lying in, for example. Derek had to be at least thirty years old by Stiles’ calculations; how come he still slept in a single bed like some kid. There was plenty space in his room for a much larger bed. You couldn’t even sleep in such small bed comfortably, let alone do something else… like have sex. Stiles wondered if Derek even had sex at all. No one ever came to Derek’s house except Stiles, not even the three other zookeepers who seemed to be, if not Derek’s friends, then at least in some kind of understanding with him. The four of them mostly communicated in grunts and silent stares.

And Derek never left the Zoo. Scott did tell Stiles once that Derek sometimes went to see his boss, but during the month that Stiles had known Derek, he was sure the man never went anywhere. Also, he had no phone. Stiles just couldn’t understand that.

So, on the spur of the moment, Stiles decided to poke a little at Derek’s weird life choices.

He got up and joined Derek in the kitchen where the man was cleaning green beans for dinner, chopping off the ends and halving them after that.

When Stiles sat down at the table, Derek just shoved half of the green beans towards Stiles and handed him a small knife. Stiles was hesitant to speak at first, so he just smiled at Derek, to thaw the ice a little. To his mild surprise, he got a small smile back. They were definitely making progress. “Hey, the new ‘Spider-man’ is showing at the theater this week.“ Stiles was so proud of his idea to lure Derek out into the world by dangling the newest installment of the Hollywood franchise in front of his face. It was a phenomenal idea.

Derek’s frown was back in place. “So?“

Stiles just wouldn’t give up. Derek would clearly realize that Stiles had his best interest at heart. “What do you mean, so? So we can go and see it, have some fun, spend some time outside the Zoo. Together, ideally. But also, you could go by yourself, if you mind my company. If you’re interested to see the film, that is. That would be cool, too. I wouldn’t mind.“

Derek stood up from his chair, and then he sat down back again. He held his knife in the air like he couldn’t clean the green beans and think of an answer to Stiles’ question at the same time. He looked flustered. Stiles noticed it and he found it incredibly charming. It looked like Derek had misinterpreted Stiles’ offer, but Stiles really only wanted to draw Derek out a little from his shell. To get him to do anything beside work, have fun a little, like friends. And he was completely serious about his offer that Derek went solo. It would be good for him.

Stiles wasn’t even sure Derek considered him a friend, but Stiles would like that. Stiles knew Derek had many issues, so he wouldn’t push too hard. Baby steps, for Derek’s benefit. Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little at Derek, covering his hand in comfort. “Hey, man, it’s all right. You don’t have to, I just thought it would be nice, you know, to go out a little. Everybody says the film sucks, so… there’s that. We don’t have to.“

 

Derek slowly pulled his hand away. He cleared his throat. “We can do… that. What you want. Not the movies, I don’t like to go out, but… that, what you want. I know. We can do that. I just… can’t offer you anything else.“

Stiles dropped his beans as well and looked at Derek incredulously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Derek. What I want? I don’t know what you mean. What is it that you think I want? Tell me.“ Stiles was still smiling, speaking softly since he felt that Derek was having difficulties communicating. He would do anything to make him comfortable.

Derek’s face was impassive. “You want sex, yes? I know it. I can sm… I know it. So, if you want to fuck, I can fuck you, no problem. I just don’t want anything else.“

It was one of those situations which required a sky to crack open, or a storm to howl until the windows shattered. But, as it were, nothing happened. The sun still shone, the birds still chirped, and the beans still had to be cleaned. Stiles just sat there, feeling completely removed and detached from the situation. It was like someone had taken giant scissors and cut all the tiny, invisible strings that connected him to this place, to this man.

He did feel throbbing behind his eyes and a familiar knot form in his throat, usual precursors to his panic attacks, but he willed them away. It had been too long since his last one, and he wasn’t going to have one now, either.

How could he be so completely, spectacularly wrong about this man? What was it about Stiles that attracted cold, soulless people to him when all he wanted was a little warmth and a half-decent emotional connection. He would have been happy if they had been friends. Stiles would be ecstatic. Stiles really thought he didn’t have great expectations. Mutual understanding, respect, and just having fun together, feeling comfortable and pleasant with each other were his only expectations.

He hoped for shared memories and if not love, then at least some affection; what he got instead was an offer for a dick up his ass and a reminder not to ask for anything more.

Stiles got up from the table, resolved not to make a scene. He was trying his best not to cry. “Derek, you are wrong. You’ve made a mistake.“ Stiles’ throat was burning. He wanted and mainly succeeded to speak calmly. “But it’s all right. It’s just a misunderstanding. I… don’t want that. I definitely don’t want that. I don’t know what gave you that impression, but, Derek, that is the last thing I want.“

Stiles wiped his hands on the back of his sweatpants. “I… Would you mind if I went home? I feel very uncomfortable right now. I can make it up to you some other time. Please.“

Derek nodded, offering no words to Stiles, nothing but a frown on his face. Stiles got to the door, and turned around once again. His eyes traveled across Derek’s cottage, over the vegetables on the table, their two knives one next to the other; they saw a little bed still unmade from Stiles’ afternoon nap. How could Stiles’ mind write entire romance novels into such trivial, frivolous objects? It was all Stiles’ fault. Where there was a chipped cupboard and a book with yellow pages, he saw Austin. Where there was a frowny face and dark looks, he saw Brontë.

Stiles wanted to cry for his own stupidity. He looked at Derek one more time before he left. “Thanks for the kind offer. I really appreciate it.“

On his way home, Stiles tried to remember what he did wrong, how he caused Derek to have such impression. He honestly couldn’t think of anything. But the enormous cloud of guilt pressed his chest nevertheless. He felt guilty for being attracted to Derek in the first place even though he was sure he never showed it. Most of all, he felt guilty for stupidly hoping and dreaming.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles watched Theodore Allen water the plants in his office, frowning in surprise. “Is that, is that monkshood?“

Sweet Mr. Allen peeked at Stiles over the top of his spectacles, chuckling benevolently. “Bravo, my dear boy. Aconitum napellus, to be more precise. Awfully useful little devil.“ He sat behind his desk, pushing a bowl of nuts towards Stiles. “Fancy a nibble?“

“What can you possibly use it for? It’s poisonous.“ Stiles eyed the nuts in temptation, but he wouldn't dare now.

“Ah,“ Theodore tapped his nose with his index finger a few times. “Trade secret. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,“ he said, laughing at his own joke. “How’s the thesis going?“

“Not so good, actually. I’m thinking about changing directions,“ Stiles fidgeted in his chair, going through his bag. He couldn’t find his notebook. “I wanted to talk to you about it. There’s something here which has completely opened a new dimension for me and I think I’m going to change my topic. I was hoping you could help me, maybe, say a few words to my mentor. He’ll probably allow it if he hears from you.“

“Oh!“, the man looked positively delighted. “The insatiable curiosity of a young mind! How very lovely. What is it, Stiles? What is your new interest?“

Stiles rifled through his bag in desperation. “I can’t find my notes, it’s all there, I wanted to show you, but… I probably forgot them at home.“ Stiles dropped the bag on the floor and put his hands on the desk. “It’s transference psychology, I’m not sure yet. Probably not the right term, but I was thinking of exploring the process of osmosis between people and animals.“

“You mean like… feral people?“ Mr. Allen asked, unperturbed.

“No! No, nothing like feral people. A man doesn’t lose his humanity here, he’s still a completely functional human being. But, through the process of exposure and, and… osmosis, I haven’t figured that part out yet, he develops certain… animal characteristics. Like, improved hearing. Or better sense of balance, more strength, things like that. I have a whole list in my notes.“ When he was finished, Stiles deflated, positive that Theodore would dismiss his insane theory on the spot. It sounded crazy even to him, as well, saying those words, but he could prove it, he could. He felt like he was on the verge of an epic scientific breakthrough. He started bouncing his leg.

“What made you change your mind?“

Stiles gulped. He couldn’t believe that Theodore didn’t question his theory, or ridicule it. Something was going on here. Either the old man knew more than he pretended to, or he was going senile. “To be, to be quite honest, Sir, a lot of things. You have only four keepers here and they maintain the entire Zoo! It’s virtually impossible. And… and… some other things, but mostly, it’s, it’s Derek, Sir. Derek Hale,“ Stiles stuttered, praying with all his heart that the man didn’t call the asylum, or the police, to take him away.

Also, one of Stiles' concerns was that this could be considered as a sort of… betrayal on his part. Stiles was absolutely certain Derek would hate him for coming to his boss with his notes on Derek. He would probably strangle Stiles for taking notes on him in the first place.

But, Stiles just didn’t care. After Derek’s indecent proposition, Stiles had allowed himself a few hours of pining and crying on his Dad’s shoulder, only because he was a firm believer that repression was a very unhealthy coping mechanism. He was good as new after that, and his tragic love life helped cement Stiles’ determination to follow his professional dreams with even more vigor than before. He wanted to prove his theory so badly. And he could, too, only if Mr. Allen… and, to Stiles’ dread, Derek, allowed him to.

“Well. That’s certainly an interesting theory, Stiles. I’m not sure there’s enough potential there,“ the man mused. “However, I’ve never been the one to discourage young dreamers. Go, talk to Derek, because you have to, you know. If he agrees, which I really, really cannot see happening, Stiles, to be honest… I’ll call your mentor, I promise.“

Stiles pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! Thank you! Thank you!“ He jumped on his feet and practically ran around the desk to hug the man.

Mr. Allen chuckled. “There, there,“ he patted Stiles’ shoulder. “No need to thank me. Don’t count your eggs before they’re hatched, young man; Derek will probably throw you out on your tushie when he hears your theory.“

But Stiles didn’t care. He was ecstatic, he was exhilarated, even though he didn’t have a slightest idea how to convince Derek to be his guinea pig. He practically ran downstairs, his feet kicking his butt, and rushed towards Derek’s house. His mind was spinning with million thoughts; to his slight consternation, Stiles planned to use their recent misunderstanding to his advantage. Despite being completely aware of the moral questionability of his idea, Stiles was absolutely certain that in this case, the cause justified the means. He was going to Machiavelli the bejeesus out of Derek. With a plan in his mind and hope in his heart, he knocked on Derek’s door.

***

 

Stiles expected many things, imagining this encounter in five different variations, but a pissed off Derek was in neither of them. “What?“ Stiles pushed past Derek’s immovable body, who didn’t even have the decency to invite him inside, but again, Stiles was a man with the plan, so. “What’s the matter with you? Did you not have a good night’s sleep? Did you have a scary dream? What do you have to be upset about?“ Stiles ploughed on, turning to see where Derek was only when he reached the kitchen. It was beyond Stiles’ grasp how he managed to look so cranky that early in the morning. But there he was, dark and scary, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

But Stiles wasn’t scared, oh no; there was nothing scary about Derek to him anymore. Whether it was due to the fact that he saw Derek bottle feed baby animals every morning, or because now he knew Derek at least found him sexually attractive, Stiles wasn’t sure.

“If anything, it is I who has the right to be angry, Derek. But, no, here I am, ready to set aside our little misunderstanding for the sake of greater good! For the sake of science, Derek. Frankly, I find it magnanimous of me to even call your propositioning me like I’m some, some… cheap rent boy, a misunderstanding,“ Stiles argued. “To think that…“

“Stiles!“ Derek yelled, cutting Stiles in the middle of his rant. “What are you doing here?“ He started walking towards Stiles.

“How, how do you mean?“ Stiles barely resisted the temptation to backpedal; Derek was really intimidating right now.

Derek walked to the cupboard, the very same ancient looking cupboard that Stiles found incredibly romantic, and opened a drawer. “I mean,“ Derek pulled Stiles’ notebook from the drawer and slammed it down on the kitchen table. Stiles jumped a little. “What. The FUCK. Are you doing here.“

Stiles paled. “I, I can explain.“ Derek had obviously read his notes.

“Explain?“ Derek roared. Stiles was really stunned by Derek’s reaction. It was, just like so many other things about Derek, exaggerated and strange. Derek pulled his hair, and then he punched the wall next to the cupboard. The wall cracked, and the plates and glasses inside the cupboard rattled. “Explain what? You don’t have to explain anything to me. All your notes are about ME. Who sent you, huh? What are you doing here? What do you want?“

 

Stiles stretched his arms towards the man in placating manner and whispered. “Derek, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Derek, nobody sent me, I have no idea what you’re talking about…“, but Derek just looked at him with despair in his eyes. He plopped down onto a chair, his arms and legs falling limply around it. He obviously believed that Stiles had betrayed him in some grossly reprehensible way, or even worse. Stiles couldn't help remembering Derek's dead family.

At that moment, Stiles realized that Derek wasn’t mad; he was hurt. He was very, very hurt. His next words confirmed Stiles’ suspicion.

“I fucking trusted you…“ Derek said in a broken voice, looking blindly through the window.

At those words, everything that Stiles had planned, everything he had wanted to say or do, just fell into a deep, deep water never to resurface again. He couldn't play a game now. Stiles was a deeply affectionate and compassionate person. Derek’s pain cut through him like a knife. He reacted instinctively to it, calming down and deciding to go for the truth.

He quietly pulled the chair across from Derek out and sat down, putting his hands on the table rather than in his lap so that Derek could see them. He began talking as softly as he could. “My name is Stiles Stilinski and I'm a postgraduate student at Columbia University. I picked this Zoo to do my thesis here because I wanted to return to my hometown as soon as possible, because of my father, who you know; he is my only family. My best friend is Scott McCall, who you also know."

Stiles looked at Derek to check for any reaction, but there wasn't any. He had no other options but to continue. "From the very first day of my work here, you fascinated me. I noticed so many things about you that intrigued me so much that I completely lost interest in the original subject matter of my thesis. That’s why all my notes are about you. The way you communicate with the animals, the way they listen to you…“

Stiles hesitated a little before continuing. There was no going back now. He had to make Derek see the truth. “Your strength, your speed, the way your eyes change color, your freaky hearing… Your nails sharp enough to slice through meat, your ability to stay underwater for fifteen minutes… And that day when the falcon accidentally clawed you, I ran to get the first aid kit, but there was no wound when I returned, Derek. I distinctly remember seeing three bloody cuts on your arm.“ Stiles held his breath and wondered if he had pushed too far.

Derek stared through the window, still as a stone.

“Before I came here, I was at Mr. Allen’s office, asking him to let me write my dissertation on you. That’s why I came. To ask you if I can. To beg you, if I have to.“

Derek turned his head slowly, cocking his head a little. “You think this is funny? You want to study me like I’m some kind of… like I’m an animal? Is that it, Stiles?“

Stiles shook his head quickly, getting up from his chair in frustration. “No, Derek, no, I respect you so much, I fucking admire you, like a person, like an expert… Can you imagine the benefits, the progress in science… You’re a miracle, can’t you see that? Your have literally improved your skills and abilities in order to take care of the animals above anything any other human being has ever done before.“ Stiles was breathing heavily, excited after his passionate speech.

Derek laughed. He laughed so hard that Stiles thought he was going to fall from his chair. Then, he looked Stiles squarely in the eyes and said: “Stiles. I’m a werewolf.“

Stiles blanched. He couldn’t believe it. Derek’s opinion of him hadn’t changed at all, obviously; he still thought Stiles was a dunce of epic proportions. It cut Stiles deeply. He sighed in resignation. “You don’t have to make fun of me, Derek. Please, don’t make me hate you. If you don’t want to work with me, just fucking say so. I’m a big boy, I can take it. You don’t have to make things up and offend my intelligence.“

“No, Stiles,“ Derek stood up as well, and took Stiles’ hands in his. His eyes were burning with intensity and honesty. “I really am a werewolf.“

“Oh, my god,“ Stiles whispered. “You really believe that, don’t you. Derek, it's all right, I can help, and we’ll find a way. You’re not crazy, just… a little delusional. There must be some institution that will have you. My father can call. There has to be a medicine… I don’t think psychotherapy is going to cut it…“ Stiles murmured into his chin, thinking out loud. What a shame. Derek was so smart and hot, but crazy as a bat. 

 

“I can shift if you want,“ Derek offered nonchalantly.

“You can shift what?“ Stiles was losing his mind. This was all just too much for him. He really, really didn’t need to do that thesis after all. He should just quit. He was nerdy enough without it. He was on the verge of a panic attack.

At that point, Derek’s face began to transform before Stiles' eyes. His ridge moved forward, his hair and beard started to shift and grow, his ears turned elfish and his teeth elongated.

“Ah,“ Stiles gasped, flying over the chair and falling onto his butt. “Don’t touch me!“ he yelled even though Derek didn’t move, scrambling onto all fours and running towards the bathroom. He locked himself in.

Derek shifted back and went to the bathroom door. “Stiles, get out.“

“No!“

“Stop being ridiculous.“

“I’m ridiculous? I’m being ridiculous? You’ve probably roofied me.“

“You haven’t eaten or drunk anything here. How could I roofie you?“

Stiles went quiet for a while. Then he whispered through the door. “Are you going to hurt me?“

“You know, I could open that door with one finger. And if I wanted to hurt you, I could have done that a million times by now. But here I am, begging you to come out like you’re some petulant child.“

Stiles cracked the door open a little. Derek smiled at him. “Hey. Come out, so that we can talk.“

 

At that moment, someone banged on the front door. “Hey, Derek! What the hell, man, you’re an hour late! Are you planning on doing any work today?“

“Wait here,“ Derek whispered to Stiles and went to open the door.

“Boyd. Can you handle it without me for a while longer? I… have a headache.“

Stiles couldn’t see the man, but he could almost hear a smirk in his voice. “Sure. Say ‘Hi’ to ‘Headache’ from me.“

Derek slammed the door in his face. “You owe me for this, boss-man!“, Boyd yelled from the front yard.

 

Stiles left the bathroom and Derek and he both sat at the table again. “Would you like some coffee? You could use some sugar right now,“ Derek offered.

Stiles nodded. Derek got up and turned on his coffee machine, busying himself with cups and filters.

“How did you become a werewolf?“ Stiles asked. Once his shock had waned, his natural curiosity woke up.

Derek turned to look at him and smiled. “I was born one. My entire family were werewolves. Well, almost. Only my father was human.“

“So the werewolf gene is dominant,“ Stiles whispered, the scientist in him taking over. “Who else knows about this?“

“Very few people. We are practically exterminated as species.“

“Exterminated? How? By whom?“

“Hunters. They were the ones who killed my family.“

Stiles cringed at that, remembering the articles he had read not so long ago. “But why?“

“For reasons you've heard already many times before. The typical ones, lying behind every crime against any other minority. Prejudice, fear, ignorance, hatred…“ Derek put a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

“Thanks.“ Stiles closed his hands around the warm cup. “Are there other werewolves?“

“In California, no. Boyd, Erica, Isaac and me are the only ones left. We’re sort of hiding here. This is our safe place.“

Stiles shook his head at the revelation. “I should have guessed. There was no way the four of you managed to maintain the place this size, but now I understand how you do it." Stiles paused, and then asked: "Does Theodore know?“

“Yes, and aside from him, your friend Scott’s boss, Deaton, also knows. Both were friends with my family. They help us a lot.“

Stiles took a sip of his coffee, not knowing where to go from here. His entire world shifted; a whole new dimension opened in front of him. Everything he had ever learned , everything he thought he knew, was somehow uncertain now. He looked at Derek, connecting the hot, grumpy zookeeper side of him with his preternatural abilities described into minute detail in Stiles' notebook and it all made sense. Stiles thought he had made a scientific breakthrough, and he did, just a much bigger, even more unbelievable one. So unbelievable, that it had to remain a secret. “I guess I can’t write my thesis about you now,“ Stiles said sadly.

“No, you really can’t,“ Derek smiled apologetically. “Stiles…,“ he started. “This is a very big deal for me, what I’ve told you. The fact that I’m a werewolf dictates my whole life, and it has dictated my behavior towards you, as well. When Theodore told me he was going to accept your request to come here because he owed it to your father, I was so upset, I didn’t like it, as you can imagine; but he assured me, repeatedly, that you were absolutely clueless.“

Stiles sprayed his coffee over the table. “What?!“

“He said, quote, ‘The boy’s sharp as a razor, but too unfocused, like a headless fly. You’ll find a way to distract him, I’m sure.’“ Derek smiled.

“Old fart,“ Stiles grumbled. “Well, he was wrong, wasn’t he? I saw right through you!“

“Stiles, you thought I picked up animal characteristics through osmosis.“

“It was a perfect theory, admit it. It’s not my fault I didn’t know werewolves were real.“

They talked for a while longer, and Stiles felt like years had passed. He was tired, and still very confused. He felt like they were the last two men in the universe, unaware of the world surrounding them. They finished their coffee, but Stiles was reluctant to abandon the safety of the cottage.

To his surprise, he felt safe here, safe with Derek. His mind was swimming with questions. The most important ones were too difficult for him to ask, but it was against Stiles’ nature to resist the temptation, or not to rise to the challenge.

“Why did you tell me, in the end? You didn’t have to. You could still pretend. You could pretend my theories were correct, then try to sabotage me later on,“ Stiles whispered.

Derek remained silent. He bit the inside of his mouth, and sighed, as if he wondered whether he should reply to Stiles at all. But then, he did. “I knew that if I wanted to have any meaningful relationship with you, I had to tell you. You had to know.“

“Meaningful relationship,“ Stiles flatly repeated. “Derek, you offered to fuck me yesterday.“

Derek blushed to the roots of his hair. Stiles watched him in fascination. “I am so sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to offend you. I thought that was what you wanted. I could smell your arousal around me; I knew you were attracted. And I, I was attracted to you, too,“ Derek confessed.

"That's cheating, you know. There I was, sure in my smooth operative skills, not revealing my cards, when during all that time, you could smell me. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't so sad," Stiles complained.

“No, Stiles, it's not that, it's... not because of you. I couldn’t believe you would want anything more from me, that I could have that. And… and… I couldn’t have anything more with you at that point even if I wanted to because of my secret. So I thought, I thought that we could have at least that. I’m so sorry. It’s… so stupid,“ he hid his face in the palm of his hands.

“Derek…,“ Stiles stood up and walked to him. He put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s all right,“ Stiles repeated, caressing the man’s shoulder.

Derek took his hands off his face and looked at Stiles. Stiles could drown in those eyes. They were speaking to him on a primal level. He took Derek’s hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing his knuckles. “Well, then.“

Derek stood up. His chest was heaving with emotional turmoil, and Stiles fared no better.

“Stiles,“ he put his arms around Stiles’ body. “Can I kiss you?“

Stiles closed his eyes in excitement, overwhelmed by that potent feeling of poetic justice. Here was his Austin, here was his Brontë. He raised his head towards Derek, peeking through his eyelashes. “Please.“

Derek’s lips touched his, gently, slowly, pressing a little until Stiles opened his mouth. It felt perfect. Stiles hugged him around his neck, gluing his entire body to Derek’s. The sounds, the smells, the feeling of Derek’s tongue against his, everything was perfect. When they stopped, Stiles leaned his head against Derek’s chest and sighed in content.

“We have to go to work,“ he murmured.

Derek caressed his hair. “We really, really do. But… let me hold you just a bit longer.“

***

Their relationship ran pretty smoothly from then on, against all odds. They were both so innocent in matters of love, but it didn’t take them too long to figure out the ins and outs of romance, or mutual orgasms, for that matter. Derek pushed Stiles to continue working on his thesis, and Stiles pushed Derek to go to the movies with him; even worse for Derek, he took him to meet his father.

John welcomed him so cordially, wrapping him in a hug and calling him son, that Derek almost burst into tears in the middle of Stilinski’s living room. Later, he returned Stiles the favor by allowing his pack to tease him mercilessly.

When Stiles went to Mr. Allen to tell him that he would stick to his original idea and that he wouldn’t be changing his topic after all, the old man looked at him knowingly and, crossing his arms behind his back, exclaimed: “Lovely young man, that Derek Hale, isn’t he? He didn’t give you too much grief, Stiles, I hope.”

The man waited until Stiles convinced him that Derek had carried himself like a perfect gentleman, and then nonchalantly added: “By the way, you can tell him we got a bigger bed for him. It’s in the storage, dismantled, of course. Perhaps you could help him get rid of that horrible old cot he slept on and assemble the new one, hmm, Stiles?”

“Don’t you worry, Theodore,“ Stiles winked at him lasciviously, “I’m on it!“

“That’s my lad!“ the man yelled after him. “I just love hearty young people!“

 

That evening, after they vigorously tested the new bed many times in many different positions and lay sleepy and content in each other’s arms, Derek kissed Stiles until he completely melted in his embrace, flat against the bed while Derek watched him from above.

“How should I call you?“, he whispered in the quiet of the night.

Stiles opened his eyes a little in confusion.

Derek clarified: “Sweetheart? Darling? Love? My dear?”

Stiles chuckled. “I wish you wouldn’t.“

“Why?“ Derek asked. “What endearments am I allowed?“

“Well, let me think. Blossom, for every day. My pearl, for Sundays, and god divine, but only for very special occasions.”

Derek laughed. “And what shall I call you when I’m cross? Stiles?”

“No. You may only call me Stiles when you’re completely, perfectly, incandescently happy.”

Derek leaned his head against his forearm, caressing Stiles’ cheek with his other hand. “And how are you this evening…, Stiles?” He kissed his lover’s forehead. “Stiles.” He then kissed his cheek, whispering again, “Stiles.” The last kiss landed on his mouth. “Stiles…”

Stiles would swear to his dying day that he could hear someone playing violin music in the background at that very moment. But, perhaps it was just the music of his heart.

 

THE END


End file.
